Here's a taste:

Taela stood at the pond’s edge, watching her son swim, her bare toes sinking into the wet soil. Sand clung to her calves, and her sleeveless tunic whispered around her in the warm afternoon breeze. It was their private place, hidden deep in the forest where the other Elven never followed.

The barely rippling surface reflected her image in broken waves—an image cross-sectioned by the ta...